The Other Daughter (ARC)

by Shalini Boland

  I didn’t air my suspicions to Matt last night. It was enough that I told him my history. I don’t want to mention Bella until I have proof. Or at least until I’m absolutely sure in my mind. Perhaps, after this afternoon, I’ll know more. But I’ll have to see her again in order to know for certain.

  A car horn makes me jump. I look up to see Kate’s white Fiat drive past, indicating into our road. The boys are already around the corner, out of sight; behind me the girls are oblivious – either that or they’re not bothered, heads still bowed over their phones. Kate’s car is out of view before I get the chance to look for Bella in the passenger seat. I quicken my pace.

  Kate has parked outside our house behind my red VW Polo and is giving Kieran a hug. He squirms out of her grasp and boomerangs back to Charlie. Kate raises a hand in my direction. I wave back and lower my umbrella. I can’t see Bella yet. Perhaps she’s still in the car, but the windows are obscured by raindrops.

  ‘Hello.’ I’m slightly out of breath when I reach her. ‘You found us okay, then?’

  ‘Yes, although I did take a couple of wrong turns. My satnav got a bit confused.’

  ‘Ha, my satnav gets confused sometimes, too. I think it’s all the narrow country lanes around here.’ I smile and glance into her car, my heart sinking when I see the passenger seat is empty. But then, I think, maybe Bella’s got an after-school club and Kate will be picking her up a little later.

  She follows me up to the house and I open the front door. The boys tumble past me into the hallway first, discarding coats and shoes and racing up the stairs. ‘Come in.’ Kate follows me inside, bringing a whiff of rose perfume with her. ‘Is Bella not coming?’

  Kate rolls her eyes. ‘Well, I went to school to pick her up, but she came out and casually informed me she’s going to a friend’s house after school. I didn’t want to say no, because of course I’m relieved she’s making friends. But I wish she’d texted me earlier, so I hadn’t wasted all that time trying to get parked. Never mind. This hopefully means she’s going to settle in okay.’ She shrugs off her coat. I take it from her, turning away, trying to hide my crushing disappointment. I attempt to make some space on the rack, managing instead to dislodge half the other coats, which slide to the floor.

  ‘Go through. I’ll be in in a sec.’ I wave Kate into the kitchen as Jess and Amy finally come in through the front door, handing me their coats and sloping off upstairs. Despite my smiles, I feel like crying. I’m tempted to chuck all the coats on the floor and leave them there, but instead, I calmly hang them all, trying to pull myself together.

  What’s the point of today if Bella isn’t even going to be here? Now I’m going to have to spend all afternoon making polite conversation with a woman who’s potentially a child abductor. As I hang up the final coat, I realise that I’m being stupid. I should treat this as a fact-finding mission. This is my opportunity to quiz Kate about where she’s from and what she’s doing here in Dorset – see if I can glean any useful information. I need to be friendly and charming and not give her any cause to suspect what I know. My brain knows this is a good idea, but my heart is heavy with longing.

  Last night in bed, I lay there imagining a perfect reunion with my daughter, a bright glow of recognition in her eyes. I pictured the scene in minute crystal-clear detail. How we’ll talk about her deep-rooted feelings that she never really belonged to her family. How she always felt so different. We’ll hug one another and weep for all the lost years. But then we’ll resolve not to waste a minute more steeped in regret. Instead, we’ll make up for lost time, and do all those mother–daughter things we never got to do together.

  She’ll meet her biological sister, Jess. And although she grew up with Amy as her sister, they were never that close… or maybe they were close, and the three of them will become inseparable. Kate will have to go to prison – there’s no other option. Not after putting me through years of hell. But I’ll be dignified about it. I won’t rail and rant…

  Back in the present, damp and dishevelled from the rain, I head into the kitchen and give Kate what I hope is a genuine smile. ‘Can I make you a cuppa?’

  ‘Tea would be lovely.’

  ‘Have a seat.’ I gesture to the white Ikea stools lined up against the breakfast bar. Our kitchen is regrettably too small for a table.

  Kate perches her neat bottom on one of the stools and plops her handbag on the counter next to her. ‘The kids have been so excited about today. They could barely sleep – although don’t tell Amy I said that. She’d be mortified. They’ve been missing their friends, so it’ll be nice to make new ones.’

  ‘My two were the same last night. It’s great how they’ve hit it off.’ As I bustle about the kitchen making tea, I surreptitiously examine Kate Morris’s features and attributes. ‘I wish my hair stayed as straight as yours in the rain. Mine always turns to frizz.’ I realise that her blonde hair is exactly like Amy and Kieran’s, whereas Bella’s hair is dark, lustrous and wavy.

  Kate pulls a lock of her hair out from her head, wrinkling her nose. ‘Isn’t it funny how you always want what you haven’t got. My hair is boringly straight, whereas yours has so much body. I’d kill for a bit of a wave in mine.’

  I’m pretty sure she’s just being polite. ‘How do you take your tea?’

  ‘A dash of milk, no sugar please.’

  ‘So, does Bella take after her dad?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘You know, with her dark hair?’

  ‘Oh, you know what – no. We’ve all got blonde hair and blue eyes, but she’s our little changeling. Although’ – Kate pats her hair – ‘my natural hair colour is more grey-brown these days.’

  ‘So you used to be naturally blonde?’

  ‘When I was a kid. But back to your question – Bella gets her colouring from Shaun’s mum.’

  ‘Shaun’s your husband?’

  ‘Yes. He’s naturally fair-haired, but his mum is part Spanish. It’s funny how the genes get distributed, isn’t it?’

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak for a moment. Trying instead to absorb everything she’s telling me. Wondering how she can lie so easily – if indeed she is lying. I pick up our mugs of tea. ‘Shall we go into the lounge? Be a love and grab that biscuit tin, would you?’

  Kate does as I ask and follows me next door to the lounge.

  ‘Wow, it’s beautiful in here.’

  Our lounge is situated next to the kitchen at the back of the house, and although it’s tiny – like the rest of the house – it looks out through wooden French doors onto our pretty courtyard garden. Matt installed a wood burner and stripped the floors. We added squashy velvet sofas and a fluffy rug, so it has a lovely cosy feel. I’m used to it now, so I forget how cute it is in here. ‘Thanks. Have a seat.’ I put our mugs down on the wooden coffee table and add another log to the burner, getting soot on my hands and wiping it off on my jeans. Taking a seat opposite, I pull my feet up under me and cradle my tea, enjoying the warmth on my cold hands.

  ‘How long have you lived in Wareham?’ Kate asks. ‘You don’t have the local accent.’

  ‘I was born in London, but we moved here seven years ago.’ I don’t tell her that it was just Jess and I who moved here. That could lead to more questions about my past, and I want to find out about her – not the other way around.

  ‘Whereabouts in London?’

  ‘Stoke Newington.’

  ‘Oh! Not too far from us. We were in Crouch End.’

  My heart rate goes up a notch. That’s surely more than a coincidence. We were only twenty minutes away from one another. The shopping centre where Holly was snatched is midway between the two places. I offer Kate a biscuit, but she declines. I should probably call the kids down to offer them a snack and a drink, but I don’t want to break off from our conversation. I need to quiz Kate further.

  ‘So why did you move here?’ I know she already gave me some generic answer about London being too busy, but it can’t hurt to ask her again.


  ‘Oh, uh, you know, usual reasons. London was getting too busy and Shaun and I wanted the children to experience life in the country. I guess I was worried about them being teenagers in such an urban environment. We figured Dorset’s a safer place than London.’

  ‘Although they say small towns can be worse than cities.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that now we’ve schlepped halfway across the country!’

  ‘Don’t worry, I think on the whole it’s a good place for kids to grow up. Everyone knows everyone. The schools are great. And if there’s any gangland violence or drug wars going on, I haven’t noticed.’

  Kate fakes mopping her brow. ‘Well that’s a relief.’

  I sip my tea. ‘You said you used to come on holiday here. It seems like quite a drastic change to move to a place after only a couple of visits.’ I’m aware that my questioning is becoming a little intense, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Ever since I clapped eyes on Bella, I’ve had this buzzing in my head telling me something’s not right. Call it a mother’s intuition or a gut feeling, but I feel as if I have no choice but to act on my instincts. I actually want to grab Kate’s collar and shake the truth out of her. I put my tea down and shove my hands between my thighs to keep them trapped. If Kate really did snatch my daughter then it surely can’t be a coincidence that she’s here, now, in Wareham. She must have sought me out on purpose. But why? It makes no sense. If she took my child, surely she would want to get as far away from me as possible, so there’s no danger of her being discovered. Unless she’s playing some twisted game. Or this really is a crazy, huge coincidence, and Kate has no idea who I am.

  She shifts in her seat. Is she feeling uncomfortable because she knows I’m onto her? Or is it because I’m going a little overboard with my questioning. ‘I guess moving here was a little drastic, but it’s good to shake things up a bit every once in a while, wouldn’t you agree?’

  I pick up my tea again and move my head from side to side non-committally. ‘I’m afraid I’m not one for shaking things up. I prefer a quiet life. I think Dorset living must have rubbed off on me.’

  ‘Maybe it will rub off on us too, and we can finally feel settled. As long as our kids are happy, we’ll be happy.’

  I want to ask, but are they really your kids? Of course, I don’t say anything of the kind. I keep all my fears and suspicions to myself. But having her here is affecting me more than I thought it would. I thought I’d be able to play a part and act normally. Instead I feel like screaming and accusing. It’s as if I’ve got ants in my brain, crawling around and itching my scalp from the inside. Did this woman steal my daughter?

  It’s no good. I have to excuse myself before I say something I shouldn’t. ‘Just nipping to the loo. Won’t be a minute.’

  Kate nods.

  I set my tea down too loudly on the coffee table and rush off to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I put the seat down and perch on the edge, trying to get my breathing under control, trying to halt the trembling in my fingers. Am I being irrational? Maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe Bella isn’t Holly. But what about her distinctive green eyes? Her hair colour? The shape of her face? All of it. And even Kate said she was their ‘changeling’ child. Was that comment meant as a taunt? As a dare, to goad me into saying what I’m thinking? Perhaps it’s me who’s got it all wrong, but my brain is so muddled right now. I honestly don’t know what to think. And I have no clue what to do next.

  8

  After Kate and her children leave the house, I close the door and exhale, exhaustion pulling at my limbs. After my mini-panic attack in the loo earlier, I managed to pull myself together enough to re-join Kate in the lounge. I decided to try to treat the rest of her visit like any other normal cuppa-with-a-friend afternoon. Otherwise I was going to be in danger of scaring her off, and then my chances of seeing Bella again would dwindle to zero.

  So I relaxed and we chatted about schools and kids and all kinds of normal, mundane things. We actually got on really well, sharing a similar sense of humour. The kids had a blast, hanging out in each other’s rooms. I made them pasta and gave them ice cream for afters. It ended up being the perfect, paint-by-numbers play date. So much so that I almost forgot the reason I invited Kate over in the first place. Almost.

  But now that she’s gone, I’ve had an idea about something I should have done when I first saw Bella. I actually don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. I ignore the mess in the kitchen and dining room and head back into the lounge with my phone. As I sit on the sofa, there’s a thundering of feet down the stairs and the lounge door swings open. It’s Jess, clutching her phone, eyes bright.

  ‘Mum, I’m just talking to Amy. Would it be okay if she comes for a sleepover at the weekend? Please say yes. Please, please, please, please.’

  I frown, wondering whether it’s a good idea or not. ‘Let me think about it.’

  ‘We won’t make loads of noise, we’ll just be in my room.’

  ‘I said I’d think about it.’

  Jess’s face falls and she slopes back upstairs. Maybe I should say yes. But then Charlie will want to have Kieran over and it will be chaos, with no sleep for anyone. Although… I could also invite Kate and Shaun round for dinner. That way, I’ll get to meet Shaun too, and I can do some more digging. I haul myself off the sofa and close the lounge door again. Matt will be home soon. I don’t have much time to get back to what I was about to do before Jess interrupted me.

  I open Facebook on my phone and tap Kate’s name in. But of course there are hundreds of people called Kate Morris. I narrow my search down by place, starting with London and then trying Wareham. I feel a thrill of excitement when her photo finally pops up. Annoyingly, her profile is set to ‘private’, so I send a friend request, realising that it could be ages until she accepts – if indeed she even does accept. She might not want me to see her page, or maybe she’s someone who hardly checks her social media.

  My fears are unfounded – almost straight away my phone pings and a notification pops up that Kate Morris has accepted my friend request. Facebook asks me if I’d like to wave to her. No, I would not. Instead, I click on her profile and start scrolling through her photos, hoping she’s the sort of person who puts up pictures of her kids. I needn’t have worried.

  There aren’t too many recent ones, but as I page back a few years, there are plenty. My heart skips as I see picture after picture of Bella. And the more I stare at them, the more I’m convinced that I’m staring at photos of my daughter. Photos of Holly. Of when she was ten years old. Eight years old. Seven. Six. And in the pictures where she’s with the rest of the Morrises, she sticks out like a sore thumb. Her warm skin tone and dark hair are nothing like her parents’ and siblings’ colouring. It’s crazy that no one’s said anything about it before – although maybe they have. And those green eyes – she’s an absolute beauty.

  I scroll back, trying to locate pictures of Bella as a baby. That will be the decider. If there are photos of her under the age of three taken with Kate, then maybe I’ll have to conclude that this has all been a terrible mistake on my part. But I get the feeling I won’t see those baby photos. I’m more and more convinced that this is my missing Holly berry. That’s what I used to call her – my Holly berry. Something close to rage sparks in my chest. But it’s the type of rage that has tears. I clench my fists and take a breath, scrolling on down through the photos. And wouldn’t you know it – Kate joined Facebook six years ago, when Bella was six years old. Holly was taken from me when she was two years and eight months. So where are those baby pictures? They’re not here. And I would be willing to bet they’re not anywhere, other than in my own photo album.

  I stare at my phone screen, at this beautiful six-year-old child – the child who looks uncannily like my missing daughter. The child I never saw grow up.

  I want to hurl the phone across the room in anger. Instead, I clutch my mobile to my chest, hands folded over the top of it, pressing the image on the screen closer to my heart a
s though I could rewind time to make her mine again. As though the collection of pixels is my flesh-and-blood daughter.

  ‘Rachel! Rach, I’m home!’

  I lift my phone away from my chest, steal a last glance at my child and exit Facebook. ‘Hi, Matt. In here!’

  The door opens and my boyfriend walks in, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand. I get to my feet and look at him quizzically. ‘Hello, it’s not an anniversary is it?’

  ‘Hi. No. It’s just, after what you told me yesterday, I wanted to get you something. I know flowers aren’t anything much – not compared to what you’ve been through – but…’ He tails off, his eyes full of sadness.

  ‘Oh, Matt, that’s just so thoughtful and lovely of you. Thank you!’

  He lays them on the sofa and holds out his arms I step into them and kiss his warm lips, momentarily forgetting what I discovered on Facebook. We’re interrupted by the children, who come clattering down the stairs, calling out to their dad.

  ‘Hey, you two.’ Matt lets me go and pulls them into a bear hug.

  ‘Amy Morris came over after school today,’ Jess says. ‘She’s so cool. She’s moved here from London and now she’s my best friend.’

  ‘From London?’

  ‘Yeah. Like me.’

  ‘And me,’ Charlie says.

  ‘You weren’t born in London,’ Jess says.

  ‘Yes I was! Wasn’t I, Dad?’

  ‘No, buddy. Jess is right. You were born in Dorset, like me.’

  Charlie’s face drops for a moment, but then he smiles again. ‘So I’m the same as you, Dad?’

  ‘That’s right, Charlie boy.’